Unwelcome

The first thing Fyn noticed was the silence.

Even before he opened his new eyes, the absence of the familiar voices behind him fostered a strange sense of uneasiness, not enough to cause concern, but certainly enough to pique his curiosity, and the moment his eyelids lifted, he realized why.

He was standing in the middle of the Valley, the same Valley he'd come to so frequently with Cura before, but this one was different. The sky was a dark blue, almost black, and dotted with stars, far from the reddish, cloud-choked sky he'd become familiar with. He could still see the smooth, black stone of the Valley floor, but most of it was concealed now beneath a thick layer of lush, green grass. No smoke hung in the air, and as Fyn listened, the usual "thrumming" sound seemed to be gone as well.

Most perplexing of all, however, was his position. While every other Dream had placed him on the Valley wall, now he stood on the shore of a wide, blue lake, its still, undisturbed waters reflecting the perfect white disc of the Night Circle. The area around the lake was flat, covered in the same green grass that covered the rest of the Valley, and surrounding that on all sides were countless trees. It was not the same Valley he'd become accustomed to. This one was considerably more welcoming.

And that fact alone made Fyn all the more wary.

His eyes traveled up to the wall, the great ring of mountains that surrounded this veritable sanctuary. A peak stood in the midst of one section, jutting out from the rest of the grey stone like a tooth from a gum. He squinted at it, trying to make out its shape with a will that only seemed half his own. The peak's shape called to mind some vague facsimile of a Threehorn's head, an odd formation to be sure, and as Fyn studied its shape more closely, a feeling crept over him, a dawning certainty that up there, by that peak, was the place he was meant to go.

He shut his eyes, and he was there, the journey blurring by in a manner of moments, and Fyn realized as he took in his new surroundings why this place had seemed so important to him. It was the ledge, the place he'd always begun his old Dreams. From here, without the usual smoke to obstruct his view, he had a much clearer view of the Valley than before, and from his vantage point he was finally able to appreciate the sheer magnitude of the place. It stretched from mountain range to mountain range, wider and longer than he could comprehend, its bountiful lands capable of feeding hundreds upon hundreds of Leaf Eaters. A thought tugged at him, a nagging suspicion that he knew this place, but he found he could not access the notion. In any case, it was hardly important anyway. He could see the cave across the same chasm he'd always crossed before, its yawning mouth just as dark and uninviting as the last time. He fixed his eyes on the opposite ledge, and waited.

Nothing happened. No stones fell, no bridge was formed. The cave remained on the other side of the gap, and he stood where he was, no closer to his goal than usual.

The slithering, cold feeling of unease returned to him, a shiver working its way up his legs as he tried to comprehend why this was. The bridge had always formed for him before; why not this time?

The answer came to him not as a conscious thought, but as a feeling.

Something's different this time around.

He began to walk forward, against his better judgement, his legs guided by an alien force. Beneath his feet, he heard the clatter of stones, and when he looked down, Fyn could see the bridge forming underneath his feet as he walked towards the cave. Nothing about the completely unnatural situation struck him as odd, but when he reached the opposite side, he was able to wrest control away from the Dream for just long enough to notice something else unusual: Cura was nowhere to be found.

Normally, she waited for him up here, outside the cave, but now he could see neither hide nor head of her.

Beside him, the cave beckoned, calling to him with a wordless voice that seemed to speak to the very basest of his instincts. Fyn was pulled away, both from his place and his thoughts, as whatever had moved him across the chasm now ushered him inside the cave.

Without the sight of the Valley surrounding him, Fyn began to feel the old sense of familiarity returning. The cave was exactly how he'd left it, its darkened walls streaked with luminescent stones which grew more numerous the farther in he went. The darkness was thick; he couldn't see his feet in front of him, but he knew the way, guided as he was by something beyond his own senses.

The colorful crystals on the walls shone with a vibrant hue, their shimmering rainbow colors mingling and splitting in a repeating pattern, dancing alongside him as he pushed further inside. This, too, was familiar. He knew soon they would open up on a much larger cavern, one he knew he would once again be drawn towards, and as the colorful lights began to split, traveling up the cave walls towards an arching, tall ceiling, he knew he was there. Colored lights shone down, illuminating the cave floor from above and bathing it in the sort of shimmering spectacle usually only preceded by a fall of Skywater.

And in that multicolored, bright light, he finally saw her. Cura lay in the middle of the cave, her tail curved around her feet and her head tucked almost completely into her belly. She was rocking gently on the floor, and while Fyn couldn't hear a sound from the young Longneck, it seemed to him that she was crying.

He strode forward cautiously, and as the light from above spilled down onto his snout, Cura stopped, uncoiling her neck to look up at him. Her round, wide eyes conveyed an unmistakable air of raw fear, and Fyn felt his stomach twist itself in a knot. He couldn't possibly imagine what had spooked Cura so much, but after everything she'd already seen, he imagined nothing good.

The young Longneck opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Taken aback, Cura paused to collect herself before trying again. Not even the faintest idea emanated from within her. She was completely silent both to Fyn and herself. The rise and fall of her chest quickened, and Fyn could tell she was beginning to panic. He tried to speak to her, but even as he did, he knew it would be pointless. No sound escaped his mouth, and this time, no ideas did either.

He lowered his head down to the ground, nuzzling Cura gently. The little Longneck's face pressed against his cheek, and Fyn started suddenly, freezing in place. Her tears were cold and wet upon his skin. Never before had he felt sensation, least of all as vivid as this. Cura too seemed surprised, no doubt by the surprising, authentic roughness of his scales. But before Fyn could examine the phenomenon further, the cave began to light up.

Fyn turned around, facing the wall in front of the two Longnecks. Like before, the crystalline lights were running down the wall like brightly-colored water, their colors merging as images began to form. Despite the strange beginning, the Dream was continuing as normal now, and Fyn took some solace in this observation. He sat down beside Cura, and felt her press her shaking body against his leg. He wanted to tell her that the Dream was going to be fine, that everything from here on out was happening the way it always did, but he couldn't. Even if he was capable of making a sound, his eyes seemed locked on the swirling images in front of him.

Ordinarily, the series of images began with the formation of the Valley, sharp and jagged peaks rising from the floor of the cave up to the sky as greens and blues ran down their slopes, pooling and gathering in the scooped-out depression below. This time, however, the story started somewhere else. The greens and blues remained, but they formed part of a curved, almost spherical surface instead, like a part of some larger ring shape. He couldn't make out what it was, not for lack of clarity, but because the green and blue circular shape was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was as if someone had mixed land and water together in some sort of strange mishmash, and shaped it into a circle. Above it, another form began to take shape: a white, long, slender shape curved gracefully over the surface of the first image. Its tip tapered off to a thin point, and as the image solidified, Fyn felt a strange pang of familiarity before both sphere and arch disappeared entirely. He recognized the shape, but he could not place it.

With the first two shapes gone, the Valley began to build itself, rising from the ground towards a black, starry sky.

(Stars? I don't remember seeing stars last time)

His eyes were forcibly drawn towards the Valley itself, yet the sky intrigued him. It was almost as if something resided in it, watching as the Valley grew from nothing to the verdant paradise it was meant to become, a shape just beyond the stars, but neither malicious nor benign; simply curious.

The image became clearer, more lifelike as herds began to come to the Valley. He could see clearly many different varieties of Leaf Eaters living among each other. Some kept to their own, others mingled, but all seemed to get along peacefully. He felt lifetimes slip by with each passing moment. Herds came and went, the Valley populated, depopulated, and repopulated again, the mountains changed shape, smoke and fire filled the sky on at least two occasions, but always the dinosaurs kept coming back.

He saw five young dinosaurs enter the image, each one a different type. Together they embraced in the center of the Valley, and he felt Cura begin to calm. His rational mind knew who they were, but he could not access it, and consoled himself with the idea that he would remember when he woke up. Together, the five grew, adding two more to their ranks, and around them the Valley changed again. Against his will, Fyn found his attention pulled towards the far end of the Valley where a herd of slender, green, two-legged dinosaurs and one Longneck entered. The other shapes began to crowd together, individuals blurring into a mass of tails, horns, and long necks, all standing apart from the strange-looking newcomers.

Finally, one from the ranks of the Valley broke away, and as its shape manifested outside the whole, Fyn felt his heart stop.

He knew the shape, the long neck covered in spines. He knew the color, the same familiar orange that adorned his own body, and while he was too far away to know for sure, he was somehow certain of the white mark atop the Longneck's snout.

Something shifted, not inside Fyn, but inside the Dream itself. It was as if the Valley had recoiled, as if something had startled it, shaking it to the very bones. He looked down at Cura, and by her surprised expression, surmised that she had felt it too. Fyn looked back at the cave wall, and his surprise turned to growing unease as he took in what he saw.

The image, for lack of a better term, was melting, colors dripping down and running together as they coalesced into a shimmering, multicolor pool at the bottom of the cave. Dinosaurs lost their shape, fading into formless blobs or lightly-colored streaks. Only the Valley and the mountains remained, but unlike the rest of the image, they were as vivid as life itself. So vivid were they, in fact, that Fyn held the distinct impression that he could reach out and touch them. The light of the false, crystalline stars was replaced by the very real shine of the Night Circle as pale light flooded into the cavern. With the exception of the rainbow puddle beneath it all, Fyn could have sworn he was looking out of the cave.

The puddle began to move, crawling back up the wall, morphing as it went. Greens and blues were consumed by red, yellow, and orange. He could hear a hissing, a distant crackling, and gradually the colors took up position on the opposite side of the Valley, taking on a new form.

Fire.

It spread rapidly in a wide wall stretching from one side of the Valley to another. Beneath it, colors began to create well-defined spikes of grass, so realistic he might have sworn he was standing in it. A sudden rush of cool air brushed against him, and Fyn shivered instinctively. This was odd as well; normally he felt nothing in these Dreams.

The fire advanced, slowly consuming the Valley floor as it crawled towards them. Fyn couldn't see beyond its licking flames, but somehow he knew the land behind it was nothing but charred grass and dark stone; the same landscape he'd become accustomed to seeing. As it spread, the fire was transforming the land into the red-sky Valley, the place he knew almost as well as his own world by now.

He wasn't sure why, but in that moment the Longneck managed to tear his eyes away from the advancing wall of flame. His breath caught in his throat when he took in the sight around him. Stars stretched out above his head, clouds moved lazily through the night sky, and behind him and to the sides, more trees and grass stood as far as the eye could see. The cave was gone.

Looking down, he could see Cura equally perplexed, circling around as she tried to make sense of where the cave had gone. Knowing it was a fruitless effort, Fyn tried to speak to her.

"Cura, what's going on?"

He reared back, startled. Not only had he formed words, something he'd never done before in a Dream, judging by the young Lonngeck's expression she actually understood them. She tried talking back to him and found that her words were just as clear.

"I don't know. Fyn, I'm scared. This is all wrong."

Fyn swiveled his head around to face the fire. It was much closer now, nearly close enough to feel the heat of the flames. His body felt tense, ready to flee at a moment's notice, but something stopped him from taking Cura and running. Deep within the fire, hidden within the flickering orange and yellow, something moved. He was certain of it. Something was inside the fire, moving steadily and purposefully towards them. The sight of it triggered a deep, primal fear inside the Longneck. There was another presence in the Dream.

"Cura," he muttered, his eyes locked onto the advancing shape in the flames, "run. Run away and find a place to wake up."

Even as he said the words, Fyn marveled at how easy conscious thought was becoming. Normally he was an observer, but now he could rationalize, make decisions, interpret what he was seeing. The closer the flames came, the clearer his mind felt.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it. Get out of here and get to safety."

"Safety? Fyn, I don't—"

"Go!"

At the sound of Fyn's forceful bark, the young Longneck took off running, scampering in the opposite direction of the fire. Fyn spared a quick glance back to watch her. When she disappeared into the trees, he turned his attention back to the fire.

It had advanced at an inexplicably fast pace in the few moments he'd let his eyes wander. Now it was close enough that he could hear its crackling roar. Acrid smoke stung his nostrils with a vividness that seemed too real to be a simple Dream. He held his ground despite the great inferno before him, his eyes desperately scanning, trying to find the movement he'd seen before.

And then, as easily as a brush fire is snuffed out by a well-placed foot, the fire vanished, seeming to roll in on itself from either side as something in the middle consumed it. The fire flattened to the ground, meeting in the middle where it was drawn up and into a hulking, dark shape; a shape that was all to familiar to Fyn.

It stood tall, almost twice as tall as he was. The whole body was covered in both dark and light green scales. A long, tapering neck protruded from a muscular, stocky body, balanced at the opposite end by an even longer tail. Spines covered its neck, straighter than his and without the sails his own spines supported. The spines ran down the length of its body, forming a wicked-looking spiked club at the tip of its tail. From the tail, he traced a ribbon of color up the length of its back and to its snout where the ribbon spread, revealing a resplendent, multicolored snout.

He was staring up at a Longneck; a Longneck with a rainbow for a face.

The Longneck's eyes, two smoldering red coals set deep within its face widened at the sight of the Sailneck before him before narrowing maliciously. A thought boomed from somewhere deep within the Valley, echoing across the mountains.

Who?

Arden?

Despite his every desire to run away, Fyn paused at this. The Longneck had never opened his mouth, but the thought was as clear to him as if it had bellowed it right to his face. Arden. He knew that name, yet even as he dug through his rational consciousness to find it, he could feel that part of him slipping away, as if he was being pulled down through sinking sand, his last view of the world above quickly and quietly fading away. He was returning to the Dream wholly, incapable of rationalization any longer. Something about the Longneck was preventing him from working anything out. The name "Arden" was just as meaningless to him as any other word now.

Towering over Fyn, the larger Longneck craned his neck down, sizing him up.

No.

Someone else.

Without another word of warning, the Longneck pivoted, lashing out with his tail. Fyn backstepped, narrowly avoiding the spiny, weighted appendage as it whistled through the air. He could feel the brush of wind against his skin as it whipped by. The Longneck carried his tail through the motion, rotating his entire body to maintain his momentum. As the tail came around again, he sidestepped towards Fyn, swinging his tail out in another deadly arc. Fyn hopped away, his smaller size keeping him relatively light on his feet, but already he could feel his legs trembling with a mix of fear and surprised exhaustion.

"Get out of my head, Amargasaur," the Longneck growled. His voice was deep, reminding Fyn of a distant memory; waves crashing upon the shore of his old home, grown to terrifying and awe-inspiring size by a coming storm. The red eyes of the Longneck burned cruelly as it paced towards him, his tail swinging slowly back and forth. The spiked Longneck lowered his head and charged. Fyn dove to the side, but the Longneck's attack struck him in the hip, sending him spinning to the ground. Fyn collapsed onto the grass as all-too-real pain flared in his hip where he'd been hit. The Longneck was relentless. As soon as Fyn went down, he was on him again, rearing up and striking down with his feet. Fyn pushed himself away, his bones rattling each time the attacker's powerful feet came down beside him. He knew he had to fight back, but the Longneck was giving him no time to compose himself, no chance to prepare for the next strike. He picked himself back up only to be struck down again. Mist billowed like smoke from the Rainbowface Longneck's nostrils as it spun around, bringing its spiked tail down where Fyn's head had been only a moment ago. This time, as Fyn returned to his feet, he backed away, putting as much distance between himself and the Longneck as possible. Its tail attack concluded, the Longneck spun around again, facing him.

"Who are you?!" Fyn cried out. The Longneck didn't answer, but a smile pulled at his mouth, warping it into some cruel imitation of a grin. Its rainbow stripes shone brightly in the white light of the Night Circle, and in that moment Fyn realized it didn't matter who the Longneck was. He was here for one reason and one reason alone: to bring as much harm to him as possible. As reason began to return to him, Fyn weighed his options carefully. This strange new spiked Longneck was far larger and more powerful than he was. Eventually, he would tire, and when that happened he'd be stomped flat into the floor of the Valley. There was really only one option available to him, one that he hoped he could take advantage of with his smaller size.

Fyn turned his back on the Rainbowface Longneck, and ran. He ran faster than he felt he'd ever run before, pounding the earth flat beneath his feet as he raced towards the trees behind him. He would pass through forest, over mountains, between canyons, but he knew he would not stop until the Longneck was gone. He broke through the tree cover, smashing through thick branches and foliage, ignoring the myriad small cuts and scratches the sticks and stubs made as they raked across his body. He heard nothing behind him, but he dared not look back, for fear that the Rainbowface Longneck would be there, following him. He ran for what felt like a lifetime, and it was only when the trees parted and the peak of the Threehorn-shaped mountain stood above him that he realized he'd been traveling uphill; he'd run the full length of the Valley. His lungs on fire, Fyn finally stopped to glance behind him. Only the deep, dark forest and the Valley below greeted his eyes. Fyn collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving as he drew in great gulps of air. It felt as if his muscles were about to fall off his bones entirely, leaving him a sore, unmoving skeleton up on the mountainside. The image startled him, a thought almost made tangible by his imagination, and Fyn composed himself, straightening himself up as he recuperated.

The Longneck was nowhere in sight, but he was hardly in the clear yet. He had no idea where Cura was, but at this point, he could do nothing about her situation. She was gone, lost ever since the Rainbowface Longneck attacked. He could only hope she'd made it to safety.

"Run home, little Amargasaur."

The voice came from his right, speaking as clearly as if the speaker were standing right next to him. Fyn whirled around, and to his surprise, there inexplicably stood the Rainbowface Longneck, looking no more tired than he'd been when he first appeared. The Longneck's grin was gone, his face a somber, glaring mask. He approached Fyn slowly, his held held erect so as to look down on his quarry rather than meet him at eye level. Fyn's body shook as the figure's shadow fell over him.

Running was useless. He knew that, one way or another, the Longneck would catch him again. As the imposing figure began to circle him, Fyn fell into step with him, circling opposite him as the two opponents sized one another up, each looking for the right opportunity to strike.

Fyn made a small lunge towards the Longneck, but it was halfhearted at best. The Longneck barely flinched, and as Fyn backed away, he made his own move, ramming straight into him. Fyn stumbled, bringing his tail around in a vertical arc. It cracked down on the Longneck's back, snapping itself against his skin between the spines. The Longneck bellowed at the sudden burst of pain and lashed out, driving his foot down against Fyn's front leg. The blow came from the side, and Fyn felt the bones resist, give, and then heard a terrible, splintering sound as a white-hot pain erupted in his leg. His foot splayed out awkwardly, dangling limply from his leg as he lost his balance, crashing down upon the cold stone of the mountain. He tried to move his leg, to get back to his feet, anything to prevent the Longneck's onslaught, but even the slightest movement sent his leg into a new state of agony. Biting down on his tongue between waves of pain, Fyn's vision blurred as the Longneck approached.

"You don't belong here," the Longneck said coldly, staring down at the twitching, pathetically whimpering Sailneck at his feet. "Go home, little dinosaur, and await the end. This world isn't yours anymore."

A horrible, familiar, deep thrumming sound began to drown out every other noise, the sounds of the Valley disappearing in a rhythmic pulse that matched, and then seemed to take over his heartbeat. Fyn saw the shadow of a tail, lifted into the air and silhouetted by the round disc that was the Night Circle. It hung there, its spines angled downwards, and for the briefest of moments Fyn felt another presence, a watcher, someone observing this horrendous spectacle of brutality. He saw a flash of scales, scales colored the purest white he'd ever seen, unblinking, sad green eyes, and then it was gone as the tail came back down.

He felt the blow before he felt the spikes push their way through his internal organs, a hard punch to the gut that forced every last breath from his lungs and numbed his chest. His whole body shook with the impact. Then the pain came, first an icy claw gripping his ribs, and then becoming a fiery talon as the tail dragged its way out through his skin. He tried to scream, but was either incapable of making any sound or hearing it. A gray fog overtook him, spreading across his vision like a morning mist, and through it he saw those piercing red eyes, and the tail, dripping with his own blood, framed once more in the pale light of night.

The tail came back down again this time directed towards his head, and Fyn shut his eyes as the last impact came.

…

A primal shriek split the still night air, rousing the most restless of the dinosaurs in the clearing from slumber. Those who stirred quickly found sleep again. The sound of death was nothing new to them.

Fyn awoke with a gasp, his lungs drawing in cold night air painfully fast. He could still see the spines swinging down towards his face, and as he looked down at his chest, he was certain he would still find the grisly wounds the spiked tail had inflicted upon him, but as he thrashed feverishly about, he found nothing. The Longneck shot up from the ground to his feet, his tail waving wildly and his sails flushed a brighter red than he'd ever seen them before. His breaths came in short, unproductive bursts that made him feel dizzy, and Fyn shut his eyes, forcing himself to control his breathing before opening them again.

It happened slowly as Fyn's mind raced, trying to convince himself that he was safe, but the pain, the blood, the fight, those images were all still fresh in his mind, keeping him alert, ready to move at the drop of a scale. Gradually, his tail fell and his panting began to slow as the reality of his situation set in.

It was a Dream, nothing more. He could pick it apart later, but for now, the important thing to remember was that he was safe, or as safe as one could be in an unfamiliar land.

Beside him, Cera snoozed on, completely oblivious to what had just happened. Fyn was grateful, unsure how he could have forgiven himself if he'd woken her from her much-needed rest. He remained rooted in place as he checked their sleeping area, not yet ready to move. Any doubt he might have had that the Dream had taken place was shattered the instant he checked Cura's sleeping-place and found it empty, with a set of light footprints leading towards a collection of reeds nearby. Fyn could barely make out the sound of trickling water beyond them. While he wasn't fond of Cura wandering off in the middle of the night, he admitted she probably had the right idea. A little cool water was exactly what he needed right now.

He found her by the side of the thin, muddy stream that ran between the reeds. She was bent over, staring down into the murky, shallow water, shaking. It called to mind the way Fyn had found her in the Dream, and he shivered at the similarity.

"Hi, Cura," he whispered, his voice cracking as a result of his waking scream. The Longneck stared down at the water, her answer barely louder than a whisper.

"Fyn, who was that? What happened?"

The Longneck shook his head slowly, "I don't know, Cura. A Longneck, I guess."

"I know it was a Longneck. I saw him."

Fyn stared at the young Longneck in surprise, catching a single tear falling from her face, its ripple quickly disappearing in the stream's current.

"You saw him? Cura, I told you to run."

"I did!" Cura said, staring up at Fyn, her eyes watering, wide with fear. "I ran to the forest and I hid, but just before I woke up, he found me."

Fyn's stomach lurched. If what Cura was saying was accurate, it meant that the mysterious Rainbowface Longneck had found her sometime after he began to flee. By running away, he'd left Cura on her own. He briefly considered asking her if he'd "killed" her too, but refrained from doing so. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I'm so sorry. If I'd known this would—"

"I was alone for so long," she interrupted him, her voice breaking out into fits of sniffling, "before you came. I think he was there then, too. Something chased me into that cave. This voice kept calling to me, asking who I was. I didn't want to answer it, so I hid." He shoulders shuddered with each sob, and Fyn watched as the tears flowed freely from her eyes, his heart torn in two.

"Where were you?"

"I tried, Cura, I really did. If I'd have known this would happen—" Fyn took a step towards the young Longneck, to comfort her, but Cura shied away. Fyn let his foot fall to the ground, mystified by the sudden fear in the young Longneck's eyes. He lowered his head to the stream and began to drink, ignoring the grit and silt he drew into his mouth with each lap.

"I don't want to go back, Fyn," he heard Cura mumble. Fyn recalled the pain of death, the horror and sheer helplessness he'd felt as the strange Longneck pursued him, and found he agreed with the young Longneck's choice.

"I know. But tonight…" a realization came to him then, one that had waited patiently at the back of his mind for him to come to his senses before making itself known.

"You didn't try to Dream tonight, did you?" he looked down at Cura, questioningly. She shook her head.

"Yeah. Me neither."

"That's why I'm scared, Fyn," Cura confessed, lapping at the cool, dirty water, "I didn't get to choose tonight. I just went back anyway."

Fyn thought about this, reflecting on his last few Dreams. Ever since he and Cura had learned to guide their own Dreams, they had always been relatively easy to control. It was almost easy to forget that there had once been a time when his Dreams hadn't been so easily controllable. Tonight had proven something of a reminder that he wasn't always in control.

In case that wasn't abundantly clear already, he thought, remembering his tussle with the Domehead earlier. It would be a while before his pride healed after that.

"I didn't choose to Dream either," he said finally, "I wonder if… if whatever attacked us Dreamed of us instead."

"I hope not," Cura said, and Fyn found himself once again plunged into a state of despair at the innocent, shattered quality of her young voice.

"I wish I could say I had a way to figure out what's going on," he said, "but for now, I'm not sure there's anything you or I can do."

The little Longneck said nothing. Doubtless these were the words she expected, if not the ones she wanted to hear.

"I might have to go back if we really want to fix this—"

Cura seemed to flinch at the very suggestion, and Fyn quickly corrected himself.

"—alone, of course. I don't want you Dreaming about this anymore, not until I have this under control."

"Thank you, Fyn."

Even as the words left his mouth, Fyn wondered whether his almost-promise held any weight at all. He hadn't even begun to understand what they were dealing with, though he had some idea. If the rainbow stripes on the creature's snout were anything to go by, their third Dreamer was a Rainbowface, and if that was true, then he was at a loss as to where to go next. His father had tussled with them, and died in the process. Cera claimed they'd brought the Great Sky Stone down; they alone were responsible for the creation of the Scar and the destruction of the Great Valley, shaping the world with power beyond his understanding.

And I'm a Longneck, a Longneck who can Dream. Nothing more.

To make matters worse, he was a Longneck without family, his closest friends now days if not weeks apart. It took every ounce of inner strength he had not to give in and start sobbing beside Cura, but he forced himself to remain strong. His days of crying were over. Now, there were others looking up to him, and soon, perhaps, even more.

Tomorrow night I'm going back, he thought.

Or the night after. I guess we'll see how I'm feeling.

He winced even as the excuses came to him. Too sore, too distracted, too afraid. Too many reasons not to do what only he could do.

Fyn flexed his jaw, suddenly aware that he'd been gritting his teeth.

"Don't worry, Cura. I'll fix this."

But the concerned glance both dinosaurs shared betrayed uncertainty.

Fyn raised his head from the stream, looking back towards the clearing. Cera was still asleep, and those he had woken up had already long since returned to slumber. He was about to return to the water for one more sip before something caught his eye.

More accurately, something didn't catch his eye.

The Ridgeback Sharptooth's carcass was gone. Fyn racked his brain, trying to remember if it had been there when he awoke from his Dream. Everything around that time was a jumbled mess of images and sensations, but he was certain it had been there. He looked again at the spot where the carcass should have been. It was definitely gone. He knew the spot where it had fallen, and no Carrion Flyers were voracious enough to strip an entire skeleton in so short a time. Even if they had, there should be bones, inedible parts of the corpse. He saw nothing. Nothing except—

Fyn squinted his eyes, focusing on the spot. There was a pool of dried blood on the dirt where the Sharptooth had bled out, some of it still apparently wet, but leading away from it he could see further red streaks extending towards the treeline.

Drag marks, he thought, feeling his pulse quicken as a lump formed in his throat. Something had dragged the corpse out of the clearing without him knowing. His eyes traced the outline of the trees, peering through their cover into the darkness beyond. Points of light speckled the dark forest, reminding Fyn of stars in the sky. The sight brought some measure of comfortable familiarity to him, even if it was simply the Night Circle's light reflecting off what few shiny surfaces existed in the woods, or a few Brightbuzzers flitting from tree to tree.

But the drag marks, and the mystery of the missing corpse remained at the forefront of his thoughts. Even as a sense of calm washed over him, he couldn't help but feel the tingling of barely suppressed fear. There was something unnatural about the whole situation, and something eerily wrong about how calm he felt. He turned to Cura, taking his eyes off the trees and the shining lights in the dark.

"Let's get back to sleep, Cura. Okay?"

"I can't sleep, Fyn."

"That's fine. But we really should return to Cera."

There was an unsteady edge to Fyn's voice that Cura picked up on immediately, and despite her memories, the feelings associated with that simple spot on the ground where she had slept, she went along with him.

"Okay."

Fyn brought his eyes back up to the treeline for one last glance before he and Cura made their way back to Cera's side. The same strange, almost sickly feeling of warming calm hit him again, but this time there was something else, too: a cold, slithering sensation that worked its way up through his spines the longer he looked at the lights in the trees.

When they finally returned to the sleeping-place, Fyn motioned Cura over. The young Longneck was hesitant at first, but abided eventually, common sense and the need for a comforting presence overruling her own anxiety. She tucked herself in under one of Fyn's outstretched legs, nestling between his neck and foot, and despite her claims, soon he could hear the soft sigh of her snores as she fell asleep. When he was certain she was slumbering, Fyn lay his own head down. As he looked back at himself, he could see his spines still flushed red, and marveled at the strange sense of foreboding he felt before shutting his eyes, trying his best to put aside it and everything else that had happened tonight.

As he did so, he could have sworn he saw two of the lights move in unison.

And there we have it! A bit of a shorter chapter, as these Dream chapters go, but I hope it was sufficiently entertaining nonetheless. Our protagonist and antagonist have, at long last, met face-to-(kind of) face, but it seems less than a fair match for Fyn. I particularly enjoyed writing this chapter, as it was a scene I've been planning for almost a year now. I plan to start work on one of my non-fanfiction stories soon, so progress may slow again, but as you've seen so far, that certainly doesn't mean it'll grind to a halt. I'll keep chuggin' away, bringing us closer and closer to the Great Valley. Until then, see you later!

Response time!

Spiritstrike: Yes, in some ways, Fyn is almost completely unrecognizable from the Longneck he was before. It'll take a lot of personal strength for him to hold onto the things that made him special in the first place as he struggles to find his place in the coming few chapters. It's not easy writing a favorite character of mine losing the things that made him him to begin with, but I am enjoying writing his growth a great deal.

Keijo6: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I wasn't certain as to how well it would go over with readers, but your review gave me a great deal of confidence. I can't wait to write the next Valley raid, as it should set some more rather large events in motion. In fact, that sort of seems to be a theme recently, starting these little snowballs of ideas and conflicts down a hill so they become something much more impactful later on. I'm also glad you enjoyed Cera's and Fyn's dialogue. Cera's seen a lot, and stakes are too high for her to sugarcoat anything for Fyn anymore. In a sense, this scene also depicted some of my inner thoughts as I've begun to come to terms with the fact that Fyn still is far from ready to actually lead anyone. Hopefully we'll see some progress on that front soon!